What is and what will never be
by Jammeke
Summary: "I'm sorry," didn't seem to cover the damage that had been done, the things he felt, the regret – and the pain that was somehow worse than being stabbed. But it was the only thing Guy had to offer. The only thing, it seemed, he had left.


**Title: **What is and what will never be

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** "I'm sorry," didn't seem to cover the damage that had been done, the things he felt, the regret – and the pain that was somehow worse than being stabbed. But it was the only thing Guy had to offer. The only thing, it seemed, he had left.

**A/N:** Spoilers for 3x13. Warning: character death.

**What is and what will never be**

Jumping in front of a poisoned blade was ridiculous, heroic, and so unlike anything he'd ever done before it almost made Guy want to laugh out loud. He would have, gladly – _anything_ to interrupt his harsh breathing, take his mind off the frowning men kneeling by his side – had he not been in agony; hot, searing agony.

He gritted his teeth. Clenched and unclenched his muscles. Drew in a shaky breath. Released it. Gasped for breath again.

It was a vicious circle; the breathing thing. Breathing in automatically led to breathing out, and the process just kept repeating itself, repeating itself, repeating itself, repeating itself –

Until it came to and end.

It would stop. Within minutes, it would stop. _He_ would stop. Stop functioning, stop breathing. He would die. He, Guy of Gisborne would die; lying on his back in the dungeons of Nottingham Castle, the place he'd once believed would grant him power, the place he'd entered willingly all those years ago, hoping for a better future. The place he'd thought he'd effectively run away from.

It seemed ironic that this was the place where he would breathe his last breath.

Pain. Endless pain. It was numbing, frightening, maddening . . .

Yet, he had to concentrate on the pain, had to focus, focus _so hard_ on the agony searing through his body – his weak, treacherous body that felt too hot and too cold at the same time. He had to concentrate on his wounds, the blood seeping through his fingers, the feel of his blood-soaked shirt against his skin. He had to fo- focus. Focus.

Frightening though the prospect of death was, it was nothing compared to the knowledge that would undoubtedly come with staying alive or allowing his mind to wander for one fatal moment. Embracing the pain was his best option, his only option, for the pain distracted him from the fact that he'd just given his life for Robin Hood.

Robin Hood, the man kneeling by his side, his sword abandoned on the cold stone floor, a defeated expression on his face . . .

No.

Guy couldn't do it.

Knowing he'd just sacrificed his life for Robin Hood was one thing; acknowledging it was another matter entirely.

Robin Hood had to live. For the people.

For Guy.

There was something . . . important. Something he was forgetting. What was he forgetting? Blinking furiously, Guy searched his foggy mind for that important thing, that one thing he had to tell Ro- _Hood_ before the blackness closed in on him completely.

As he focused on Hood's face, the face he'd detested for so long – and how pointless that hate seemed now – Guy was suddenly reminded of why he was down here with the man he'd sworn to kill, destroy, wipe out of existence so many . . . days ago.

It had only been days. _Days_.

And in a sudden moment of clarity, he remembered. Remembered the words he needed to say. "Clear the people out," he managed huskily, blinking up at his former enemy. "Through the cellar . . . back into this tunnel." And that _was_ important, wasn't it? Saving the people? That was why he'd just been stabbed, why he was bleeding to death on this cold, cold floor. To help Hood save the people. "The Sheriff will take his men the easy route through the Great Hall."

Archer said something. Ro– _Hood_ said something. Guy tried to make sense of their words, but it was hard . . . why was it so hard?

He could see Archer was starting to get up. But Guy couldn't let him. Not yet. Reaching out with shaky fingers, he pulled the younger man back down and looked at his face, drank in his features. Because Archer was going to walk away, and Guy would not be alive to see him come back.

"Brother . . ." That word was important, somehow. Had to be said. After all the times he'd said 'sister' in his life, how could this single word, this contradiction, be so very important?

Archer smiled down at him, then slowly rose to his feet and left Guy alone with his thoughts. And Hood. Hood, who was cradling his head, tenderly, regretfully.

Guy's eyes were swimming.

"Is this the end?" he muttered, knowing very well it was, but unwilling to believe it. Months ago, he'd been ready, willing to die . . . to make it end, clear his mind of thoughts of loss and betrayal. Now, he knew he would give everything for this moment to last forever, for a chance to get to know his brothers. His brothers. Not the infuriating outlaw he'd believed one of them to be, not some stranger he'd hardly ever spoken to.

And then Ro– Hood spoke. But no. It was _Robin_ now, wasn't it? Robin spoke. He said, "For you and me both, my friend."

And something inside Guy died. His body was still working, still struggling, fighting a losing battle. But something else, something even more fragile, more precious, simply gave up, vanished upon hearing those words. Was it hope? Resilience? Determination? Something else? It didn't matter, for it was gone – just like the rest of him would be within moments. Just like Robin . . . just like Robin would be by the end of this day.

"I'm sorry," didn't seem to cover the damage that had been done, the things he felt, the regret – and the pain that was somehow worse than being stabbed. But it was the only thing Guy had to offer. The only thing, it seemed, he had left.

Robin shook his head, seemingly unwilling to accept Guy's apology. But Guy wasn't going to let the man throw his words back in his face. _Everything_ the outlaw had taken from him; his estate, his silver, his beloved, his pride, his sanity. Now he had better well accept his apology as well; the only thing Guy had ever given to him willingly.

Something occurred to him then. "At least you have someone waiting for you," he said, staring up at Robin, trying to recognize the outlaw's face through the blur that was his sight. "Marian." He smiled sadly. "The love of my life_. _She was always yours." _And you were always hers. _

And that thought, wherever it had come from, made Guy want to say more. Because . . . because this was the last chance he might get. They would not meet again, would not see each other in Heaven. Robin would be there. Marian would be there. And Guy would not, couldn't possibly.

Guy had only ever loved one woman; _would_ only ever love one woman. Another chance at love was out of his reach, could never be grasped with these human hands. But pride, satisfaction, happiness; well, those feelings he'd come to know, come to experience in the few days prior to this day.

"I've lived in shame," he said, still looking at Robin's face, accepting the truth for what it was. For many years, he'd been unable to acknowledge the facts, the evidence, _his conscience_, unable to live with his choices. Now, it seemed he wouldn't have to live long with it after all. "But because of you . . . I die proud."

Robin had offered him a chance at happiness. For the first time in what felt like years, Guys had smiled. For the first time in his life, he'd fought alongside men he'd chosen to fight with because it was the right thing to do, not the thing he'd been told to do. For the first time in his life, he had been willing to lay down his life for . . .

Another person. One man. An outlaw.

A brother? Friend?

No.

But he could have been. Might have been. Could they have continued to fight together, for justice, peasants; everything Guy had been taught to trample?

He would never know, would never find out. And the knowledge that he would never know was frustrating, yet strangely relieving.

Focusing on the pain didn't seem that difficult anymore. The pain was everywhere, all around him, inside him, burning him out. But he couldn't go just yet. He had one more thing to say before he left this body, this life behind. For he might not have been granted the time he'd wanted, but he had found a way to make the last days of his life matter more than the rest of his days and those of the Sheriff combined.

He had one more thing to say, short in terms of words, but bigger than life itself. "I am free."

Guy could feel his hand lose its grip on Robin's arm, could feel his thoughts leak out of his head. They slipped away from him and floated after his feelings, his senses, his hopes and dreams.

Robin Hood had to live.

But he was going to die. Just like Guy. Just like . . . just like _her_. Guy had given up his life for an outlaw, a dead man in more ways than one.

He had destroyed Marian in being unable to let her go. He had failed to save Robin in time.

And all he had left was the biggest 'what if' he could think of.

Until that thought, too, slipped out of his reach – and darkness closed in on him.

~**fin**~


End file.
